


The King's Blade - A 'Battle The Beast' entry

by coldfiredragon



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Angst, Battle the Beast, Canon Gay Character, Challenge fic, Deathfic, F/M, M/M, Oneshot, time loop 18, wattpad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10429791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: Once in Fillory, Quentin and his friends are told of a magical blade capable of channeling a Magician's power.  Hoping to defeat The Beast once and for all they go in search of it... and learn in the process to read the fine print first.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a one-shot written for the Wattpad/Syfy 'Battle the Beast' contest. Word count maximum was 1500 words. It's a death-fic. The goal of the contest was to tell how the Battle with the Beast ended in one of the 39 other time loops. Welcome to loop 18.

As they passed yet another room of broken pottery, Eliot became more confident that they were being led on a fool's errand. There was no chance that the blade they sought was still in a tomb so thoroughly desecrated. Ahead of them, the light from Bint's torch dimmed as their tomb raiding tour guide turned a corner and led them deeper into the maze.

Eliot paused to raise his hand, and the ball of light suspended over it, a bit higher. At least Julia had thought to mark their trail. She was using Ugarte's Prismatic spray, and it had dyed each finger a different color. Anything she touched got stained in rainbow stripes.

Bint had doubled back and was waiting with increased impatience, so Eliot moved around a smashed column to follow him. The first hour of their tomb raid had been almost jovial. Quentin had joked about Dungeons and Dragons. Margo and Alice had complained lightly about their shoes on the uneven floor, while Penny and Julia had walked hand in hand as her skittle-colored fingers marked the stone.

The good humor hadn't lasted. The lot of them were soft city kids unused to the rudiments of medieval society. Brakebills and the comfort of the cottage had spoiled them. Eliot was almost positive that he was the only one who had arrived in Fillory wearing appropriate shoes. The calf-high boots were expensive and thick-soled, and he had been vain enough to waterproof them magically. The choice of proper footwear had nothing to do with having grown up on a farm, or so he lied to himself.

The yellowed rib cage of the first skeleton they had found had been pierced through by a rusted iron pike. The knowledge that the tomb had traps put them all on edge, even as Bint assured them that all the devices had been triggered years before.

Eliot had grown frustrated as the girls continued to complain. He'd waited long enough for the group to find a room large enough for all of them to gather and sit before offering to transfigure their shoes into something more comfortable. Alice had blushed in embarrassment and done the spell herself, but Margo's shoes were a designer brand, so she had taken more convincing. He had been wrong about being the only one to have proper footwear, Julia was wearing combat boots. He'd passed his flask around before they started moving again.

The halls narrowed after they began walking again. Quentin's bottomless well of nerd babble died away, and Eliot had found himself missing it. It had been comfortingly normal, and he wished the younger man would start talking again. He would have listened to Julia talk if it filled the silence.

The floor below them started to slant downward, and the walls began to curve. There was no way anything but magic had carved the downward spiral so perfectly. Maybe this was a magician's tomb after all, and there would be a glowing blade waiting for them when they found the King's chamber.

It had been Quentin's suggestion to seek out a magical weapon capable of killing The Beast. No one had a better strategy, so the six of them had trekked through the Fillorian wilderness in search of a blacksmith. The plan wasn't a bad one; it had just required more effort than any of them had anticipated. Quentin had made it sound like there would be a line of vendors selling magical weapons. At least the Smith hadn't laughed in their faces when they'd asked to buy something enchanted.

Initially, the man had offered to make them a blade that could kill a master magician, but it would take years to grow the living stone required. Eliot hoped that Eliza - Jane, that Jane Chatwin was watching them. Maybe, if they failed, she would be smart enough to have the blade they needed already made and waiting for trip nineteen down the rabbit hole.

Disappointed that he wouldn't be given a chance to craft them a new blade the blacksmith had armed them with the tale of the weapon they now sought. He had also pointed them in the direction of the nearest pub, where they had been able to convince Bint to act as their guide.

Eliot felt Quentin's fingers brush his own in the semi-darkness; he wasn't sure how he felt about being a pawn in a sibling civil war. It sucked, but maybe being stuck in a time loop explained why Quentin and Margo had slipped past his shields despite his best efforts to keep people at arm's length. The whole group, even Julia, who he openly despised, had been adopted as a make-shift family. Secretly he cared, and trying to protect them was better than drinking himself to death as the end of his third year crept towards him.

He had no post-graduation plan. Dying in Fillory was better than losing himself in alcohol and a rainbow of brightly colored pills. The floor leveled out, and Bint pressed further ahead, then he started to run. They were either close, or the man had been spooked.

"What the hell, Bint?" Eliot took off after him.

"Eliot wait!" He felt Quentin's fingers slip against his in a vain attempt to stop him, but he was already moving too quickly. He regretted the decision to press after their guide as he entered a circular chamber and the wall closed behind him.

Light poured into the room from another hallway, and a stone sarcophagus sat near the center. A short silvery blade lay in its indented surface. Eliot crossed to it and brushed decades of grime away from an engraved plaque. The verse was like everything he had read in Fillory - romanticized poetry about how the blade had channeled a great king's magic. He picked the thing up with his telekinesis instead of touching it.

"It won't channel your magic until you lay a hand on it." A cultured British voice purred. Eliot's gaze shot up to find The Beast standing in the light of the doorway.

"Martin." He said stiffly. Eliot twisted his wrist and sent the blade flying towards the man's chest. It slowed, then stopped as Martin's twelve fingers formed a position Eliot's ten couldn't match.

"I've mastered magic." Martin told him, "I don't need a weapon to channel my power."

Eliot yanked the leather driving gloves down his fingers and called the blade back to him. He'd take any advantage. Immediately he knew he had been baited into touching the knife. Invisible fire lanced through his arm as the short blade doubled in length.

"You know if Quentin is Jane's voluntary tomato than you are her sacrificial lamb."

"What the hell does that mean?" The pain had spread to his shoulder and through his chest.

"You're always the most willing to give whatever you have to of yourself if it means giving the others a fighting chance. This is the eighteenth time I've watched you give your life or your independence. I've never watched you sacrifice your magic, though." The man's smile was cruel as Eliot realized what channeling his power really meant. Martin's hands twisted, and Eliot was slammed against the curved stone wall. He couldn't let go of the blade.

Beside him the entrance he had come through burst towards the beast in a shower of icy shards. His friends pooled behind Margo. Twin magic missiles from her and Quentin sent the Beast flying. Eliot watched, unable to move, let alone help, as Alice and Julia dropped into protective positions and threw up shields. It wasn't the formation they had briefly talked about before coming to Fillory. Alice and Julia were more proficient battle casters.

The blade continued to leech away his magic, and Eliot sobbed. His mental shields were gone, and Penny went to his knees as his mind was relentlessly bombarded. Worse yet the broken sound distracted Margo, who stepped out of Julia's shield. Red light danced on the Beast's fingers and her neck twisted with a sickening pop. Her lifeless body collapsed against the dark haired girl, breaking Julia's concentration and her shield. The red light flashed again, and she went limp as well.

"You bastard!" Quentin launched another spell at the Beast and tried to move towards them.

"Quentin, don't!" Alice tried to keep him inside her shield, but her fingers abruptly bent like twigs. Her body convulsed, and she was dead before she could scream. Penny decided to travel, but he died trapped in a wall. Every nerve in Eliot's body ached, and his vision started to black around the edges as the Beast advanced on Quentin.

"It's such a shame." Martin was telling Quentin. "If he had survived the transition that level of concentrated magic might have killed me." As he lost consciousness, Eliot knew it was his fault they had failed. Hopefully, Jane would give him a chance to fix it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is staying a one-shot. I hope everyone enjoyed it.


End file.
